Nightmare on M3P667
by Titan5
Summary: John is poisoned by a paranoid military commander on a planet his team is visiting. Written for Sheppard H/C Secret Santa.


**Title:** Nightmare on M3P-667

**Author:** Titan5

**Rating:** PG

**Set:** mid-season 3 because I wanted Carson and Elizabeth.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them and those who do certainly do not appreciate them.

**Summary:** John is poisoned by a paranoid military commander on a planet his team is visiting.

**Note:** Thank you to **sharpes hussey** for her beta skills. This was written for **alipeeps** for the Sheppard H/C Secret Santa. The request is at the end of the story.

**Nightmare on M3P-667**

John looked down on the fields of M3P-667, known to its inhabitants as Aelwyd, as he guided the jumper toward the large city that sat in a valley almost five klicks from the gate. "Looks like their crops are doing well. Maybe we could work a trade for some of that root thing that tastes like sweet potato."

"It is Serian root," offered Teyla. "I am sure they would be willing to trade."

"Just stay away from the fruit. All of it looked citrus to me," said Rodney as he rummaged through the pockets of his vest.

"What are you looking for?" asked Elizabeth, twisting around from the copilot's seat to stare at the scientist.

"I thought . . . " Rodney suddenly stopped his search and rolled his eyes, throwing up his hands. "Sheppard!"

One side of John's mouth turned up. "Missing something, Rodney?"

"I told you to stay out of my stash," Rodney said, his brow furrowed and his face beginning to redden.

"_Your_ stash? You mean the stash of chocolate bars you lifted from the box intended for the whole city to share?"

"I didn't take them all," Rodney said, lifting his chin with an air of defiance. "Besides, I save the city at least twice a week so I'm entitled to a little special treatment now and again. And I'm hypoglycemic."

"So you keep telling us," John said, sliding a smile and wink to Elizabeth. The fact that she was smiling too let John know he wasn't in trouble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Rodney.

"It means I have your candy for safe keeping. I'll be sure you don't go into hypoglycemic shock or anything." Spotting the city below, John headed for the designated landing area. "Put your tray tables up and fasten your seatbelts, folks. We'll be landing in the fair city of Eleri in approximately two minutes."

Buildings covered the floor of the valley below with a society more advanced than any they had encountered so far. They were slightly ahead of the Genii and living proudly above ground. John's team had investigated the planet for the first time a week ago and been shocked to find a large, thriving city. They had apparently escaped the Wraith's latest feeding frenzy so far by dumb luck, but John wasn't taking bets on how long that luck would hold out. The people of Eleri had been interested in an alliance, hence the meeting they were on their way to now. They had insisted on meeting with Elizabeth, so John had brought extra security in the form of Lorne's team just in case trouble broke out. Carson had ended up coming as well since medicine was one of the things on the bargaining table.

Landing the puddlejumper, the group from Atlantis disembarked to be met by four soldiers and Garym, the aid to Taran, the current leader of the city. Garym was Rodney's height and build, with dark brown hair and eyes to match. He seemed to have a permanent frown, his eyes constantly narrowed and his brow furrowed. "Leader Taran waits for you. Follow me." Without waiting for a response, he spun around and began walking away.

"Wow, he sure is . . . friendly," Elizabeth said with a slight scowl.

"Ah, that's just Garym. He always acts like someone just wrecked his favorite jumper," John said, stepping off the ramp with Elizabeth. He was pretty sure one of the soldiers escorting them smiled.

"Delightful," she responded in a deadpan.

"Isn't he just?" added Rodney.

John could hear the ramp closing behind them, evidence Lorne was doing his job. There was a very good reason he'd brought Lorne's team as backup. They walked down an alley and by several large buildings to the most elaborate one that served as their local government offices. Most of the buildings in what John dubbed the "downtown area" were between three and five stories, made of brick or rock. Residential neighborhoods stretched out in all directions, radiating away from the central business hub, made up mostly of one story wooden structures. Crude automobiles rattled by on the city streets, making John think of an old black and white movie.

Taran met them at the doors to the government building, welcoming them as he led the party to a large conference room. The Elerian leader was slightly taller than John, with wide shoulders and an ever widening stomach, as evidenced by the straining button holes on his jacket. His fiery red hair was thinning on top and his beard looked like a badly groomed goatee. John tried not to laugh at the look Elizabeth flashed him when they took their seat.

"You could have warned me," she mouthed.

"Dr. Weir, I am so very pleased to meet you. I am hoping our two people can become trade partners and allies against the Wraith," Taran bubbled.

"We are hoping the same thing. I must admit that I was surprised when Colonel Sheppard and his team told me about your city and how advanced you were. We haven't met many civilizations that have come as far as yours has. Most are afraid of technology attracting the Wraith."

Taran scowled and clenched his fist for a moment. "Yes, I know of what you speak. Our world was once afraid too. For many generations, our people lived a life of nomads, roaming the land and living simply to avoid attracting the attention of the vile ones. But one day we grew tired of such a life. We decided to stand and build our city, to fight the Wraith with what we have when they come. We have shelters of course, but we know that only a small fraction of our population would survive such an attack. Still, we refuse to give in," he said proudly, lifting his chin. "But now, with your help, maybe we can prepare for them and more of our people will be able to survive."

John couldn't help but glance at Ronon, who gave him a quick nod. The Satedan could no doubt identify with the ideas of the Elerians. John only hoped the outcome was better than it had been for Ronon's people. "We'll do everything we can to help you protect your people."

"We are most grateful for any help you are able to spare us. I believe we have some things that may be of interest to your people as well. Dr. McKay seemed rather fond of the Serian root on your last visit. Perhaps you would be interested in trading for some. Our harvest promises to be bountiful this season." Taran continued to smile broadly, but it seemed nervous, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he twisted his fingers together.

"I think that is a definite possibility," Elizabeth responded. "While we have a fairly stable source of food, we are interested in some variety and a backup in case something unexpected happens. We've learned the hard way that surprises of the troublesome kind are to be expected."

"Indeed. Unfortunate, but very true, Doctor Weir." Taran frowned at his hands for a moment before looking up and slapping his hand down on the table. "Enough of this somber talk. We are here to begin an alliance, hopefully a friendship between our two people, yes? This is a happy occasion, one to celebrate. I have a big feast prepared for later, but for now, we must get down to business." Taran pulled his bulk to his feet and waved Garym over to speak to him.

The sigh John let out was a little louder than he had expected and he grinned sheepishly at Elizabeth, who was glaring at him with her _I can't take you anywhere _face. Fortunately, Taran didn't seem to have noticed. Someone kicked him under the table and he was pretty sure it was Teyla, judging from the way she was narrowing her eyes. He flashed his crooked grin at her and she narrowed her eyes even more until they were slits. It wasn't the first time John wondered how he could take a good mission south so quickly. He noticed Ronon and Rodney smirking at him, but resisted the urge to see if he could reach their shins with his boot. No use digging the hole any deeper.

Taran turned to the group as Garym moved back to the door. "I have arranged some tours for you, to help inform you of our progress in different areas. I thought that would facilitate your appraisal of what we had to trade that would interest you and what things you have that could help us. You may all go together if you wish, but I thought it more efficient if I split you into groups based on expertise. I thought to send Dr. McKay to our power facility, Dr. Beckett to our medical facility, Colonel Sheppard and Specialist Dex to our military training area, and Miss Emmagan to our central food supply. Your escorts may of course accompany you," he added, waving a hand toward Lorne's team.

"What about Dr. Weir?" asked John, not liking the idea of splitting up his people.

"I thought to entertain her myself, with talk of our culture, economy, government, history . . . a way to get to know each other's people so we can better negotiate."

Chewing on his lower lip, John tried to figure out how to feel like Elizabeth was sufficiently protected without insulting their host. The alliance had great potential for both groups and John really didn't want to be the one to screw it up. He looked at Ronon and waited on the Satedan to get what he was silently asking. At the man's nod, he turned to Taran. "I think I'll leave Ronon with Elizabeth if that's all right. He's from Sateda and their society seemed very similar to yours. He might can offer some insight."

Elizabeth arched one eyebrow at him, but John was happy when Taran seemed intrigued. "Yes, I remember you are of Sateda. I have heard many good things about them . . . at least until . . . yes, that was very unfortunate." He seemed flustered for a moment, but quickly recovered. "I would be very interested in you joining our discussion, Specialist Dex."

"Ronon," Ronon said, his voice flat. "It's just Ronon."

"Ah, Ronon then. How delightful. I will gather your respective guides if you but give me a moment." Taran hurried out the door like a small child excited because he had friends over to play with.

John was trying to picture Ronon actually taking part in the conversation when the big man lumbered up beside him. "You owe me big for this," he said quietly in John's ear.

Cringing, John gave a small nod. "I know. But I can't stay with her myself without possibly insulting Taran and I want her protected. You're the next best choice after me."

"What do you mean _after_ you?" asked Ronon, his eyes twinkling.

"Funny, Chewie. Just keep her safe." He didn't wait for an answer because he knew Ronon would protect Elizabeth with as much determination as him. Turning to the rest of his men, he handed out assignments. "Lorne, you're with McKay, Martinez with Teyla, and Sanderson with Beckett. Jackson, you can hang around here in case anyone needs backup. Just keep a general eye on what's going on outside." There was a flurry of nods and yes sirs. Taran returned a minute later with their escorts.

oOo

So far John was impressed with the soldiers and their training. He had visited the troops training with various types of weapons that reminded him of stuff he'd seen in movies about WWI, several sparring rooms, and a class that looked like martial arts training. An outside obstacle course had brought back some rather fond memories of his own training, many years ago. They were now on their way to an underground facility where research was being conducted on ways to fight the Wraith.

Penkawr, the tall man who was his guide, was apparently the number two guy in the military. He was built like Ronon, if not quite as tall, but his dark hair was cropped short. Although not overtly rude, John had the distinct feeling that Penkawr didn't like showing John what their forces were capable of. He couldn't really blame the guy. Taran had been surprisingly open with the Atlantis crew, open enough that it made John nervous.

"Penkawr, look," John said, stopping to face the man in the middle of the corridor. "I know you're uncomfortable with all this . . . with showing me around. If Elizabeth . . . if Dr. Weir had asked me be this informative about our defense capabilities to people we'd just met, I'd be pretty uptight too. I'm not trying to push things here, so just show me what you're comfortable with, okay? I just need enough I can see if we have anything to get you guys ready for the Wraith when they come."

Shoulders slumping slightly, Penkawr seemed to relax a little. "Yes, I admit that I was unhappy when Leader Taran informed me of the tour I was to provide. He tells me I am too nervous about these things."

"Well, as one military guy to another, I'd probably nervous too. You don't know us very well yet, but we only want to help. We've had our own encounters with the Wraith . . . lost our own people to them. I just want to work with other people to get rid of a common enemy."

"I believe I can agree to that," said Penkawr, resuming their walk down the hall. "This part coming up was part of an ancient facility already established when we began building ours. It seemed in good repair, although we cannot get anything in it to work. There seems to be advanced technology there, but it is apparently too old to be of any good. We will eventually clear it out to make room for our scientists, but in the meantime, it provides a short cut to other part of the complex."

The structure had definitely changed and John immediately recognized the work of the Ancients. Since Penkawr seemed to know nothing of their legacy, he decided to keep quiet on the subject for now. It might have worked if the first door they passed hadn't opened. Stupid ATA gene.

"What is this?" asked Penkawr, staring at the open doorway. "How did you do that?"

"Hey buddy, I was walking right beside you. I didn't do anything," John said.

Penkawr frowned at John and then the open doorway. "We shall see." He walked over to stand beside the door and peek in. "Come here, we will make sure the room is clear. No one is to be in the older rooms because we are not sure what is here."

John sighed. "Look, if it's all the same to you, I'll just wait right here."

Penkawr turned to narrow his eyes. "Are you refusing?"

John threw up his arms part way and groaned. "Fine, I'm coming." _Everything just stay off, off, off._

When his foot hit the threshold, the lights came on and consoles began powering up. John slapped his hand to his face with another groan. "Why me?" When he dropped his hand, it was to see Penkawr staring at him through wide, fearful eyes while leveling a gun at his chest.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

John raised his hands out to the side. "Look, let's not get all jumpy here, okay? I'm still Colonel Sheppard, here to make friendly with your people. I didn't _do_ anything. You were right here, did you see me do anything?"

"No, but just because I didn't see you doesn't mean you aren't responsible." Penkawr's eyes suddenly widened, although John would have thought that impossible. "You are a spy, here to collect information about this technology so your people can steal it."

"No, I'm not," John said slowly, as if talking to a spooked animal. "Look, I can explain this, really. It's all harmless, I can assure you. Let's just go back to Taran and we can explain everything. Hey, this could even be a good thing. If we're lucky, there's some kind of shield we can help you fix or something."

"Taran is weak! He was a good leader once, but peaceful times have made him soft. He does not know what kind of threats we face, but I do." Penkawr straightened and jutted his chin out toward John. "I will interrogate you myself. It has been a long time, but I can still make people talk when I need them too."

Okay, this wasn't looking good. Spending alone time with paranoid Penkawr was not John's idea of a good time. "Look, if you'll just take me back to that conference room where we started, I'm sure we can straighten this whole thing out. If you aren't satisfied with our answers, we'll just leave and never come back. No harm, no foul."

Penkawr's lips slowly spread into a grin. "I don't think so, Colonel Sheppard. I will get answers and only then will I decide what to do. You will come with me. Turn around and place your hands on the wall."

John did as he was told, watching for a chance at escape. If he could get out of the underground complex, he could probably convince someone to take him to Taran so he could clear this mess up. "You realize my people are going to miss me in a little while."

"You let me worry about that," Penkawr said as he disarmed John, taking his sidearm and knife. The P-90 had been left behind at the conference room, not that it would make any difference right now. John had his head turned to the side, noting when his captor reached back for something to secure John with. Figuring it was now or never, John brought his elbow up and smashed it into Penkawr's face. He was running before the man hit the floor. He sprinted down the corridor and swung left at the first intersection as he retraced his steps out of the facility. Unfortunately, he ran head long into a soldier coming from the opposite direction, taking them both down in a tangle of arms and legs. John scrambled to disengage himself from the man and began climbing to his feet. Then his head exploded.

oOo

" . . . about this? What if he is telling the truth?"

"We cannot assume that. This is the first opportunity in a long time to put my skills to use and I plan on doing just that. I will know what Colonel Sheppard is doing here, whether it be to form an alliance as he says or to try to steal from us like the Genii."

The groan escaped John's lips unbidden when a sharp pain pinched his arm at the crook of his elbow. He then felt a pressure released from his upper arm and he knew the pinch had been a needle. Drugs. Great.

"Ah, Colonel Sheppard, you are awake again. I apologize for the headache, but you brought it upon yourself."

John opened his eyes and blinked several times, his eyes slowly and painfully adjusting to the light. The back of John's head throbbed, the pain radiating out to the top and front of his head. "What . . . wha's goin' on?" It took a moment for the memory of what happened to rush back to him as Penkawr stared down on him patiently. He groaned again when he realized how royally screwed he was. Not happy with his vulnerable position sprawled across the floor, John pushed himself up until he was sitting, but had to stop for a moment to wait out the resulting dizziness.

"Head injuries can be quite painful," said Penkawr. "That is unfortunate since you are about to be in even more pain."

Pushing himself against the wall for support, John squinted up at his captor. A young soldier stood to one side of the man and an older woman in a lab coat stood to the other side. While Pendawr looked pretty happy with the current state of affairs, the young soldier seemed troubled, shifting nervously. The older woman was hard to read, her face void of any emotions.

"What did you give me?" John asked, concerned at the hungry way Penkawr was staring at him.

"A little something we cooked up a few years ago when the Genii tried to steal technology and advancements from us. First it will cause intense pain. As the pain builds, you will become confused, disoriented. For a while the pain will lessen as the confusion grows worse and worse. The last few hours your head will clear some, but the pain will intensify so as to be unbearable. By then you will be begging me to let you tell the truth."

"You poisoned me? Seriously?"

"Yes, Colonel, I poisoned you. You have twelve hours in which to tell me the truth. After that, it will be too late for the antidote to reverse the process and halt damage being done to your internal organs. In fifteen hours you will be dead." Penkawr held out his hand and the woman put a small vial in it. He held up the vial with the slightly amber liquid. "This is the antidote. You have twelve hours to tell me the truth about why you are here. I warn you that you will be unable to think clearly for several hours in the middle, time that will be lost to pain and confusion."

John sighed and wiped his hand across his face, noting that a sheen of sweat had begun to form and a certain tightness was already advancing across his torso. "Look, the problem here is that I've already told you the truth. We came to form an alliance. I can sympathize with the Genii thing, though. They tried to take over A . . . our home base a few years ago. Killed two of my men in the process."

Penkawr crossed his arms and walked over to lean against a table. "Why should I believe that? Explain what happened with the door and equipment in that room."

Pulling his legs up against the cramps beginning to move through his stomach and chest, John tried to steady himself. "The lab . . . it must have built by the Ancients. That's what we call them, Ancients. They lived a long time ago, built a lot of outposts, set up the stargates. Very advanced. They eventually came to where we're from and some of us have certain genes they had . . . a part of their makeup that allows characteristics to be passed down. Anyway, I have this gene that allows me to activate the technology they built, sometimes whether I want to or not. The room simply responded to my gene."

Penkawr scowled and shook his head. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Sir, there are tales of an ancient race that lived here before us. Someone had to build the old structure," offered the young soldier.

"Think about it," John said. "If I was trying to sneak around and steal technology, would I turn all that stuff on and alert you to what was going on? I've heard of stupid criminals, but really, do I look that irresponsible? I'm telling you, it was an accident."

Penkawr studied John and the pilot could almost see the wheels turning in the man's head. If only he could get him to listen to reason. "Look, why don't you give me the antidote and we can go see Taran, explain things to him. You can tie me up or have ten guys with guns or whatever makes you feel safe. I know we can work this out. Maybe we could help you get the facility up and running."

"You would do that?" asked the woman, her eyes wide.

"We'll do what we can. We help our allies; we don't steal from them. If we could just get enough worlds working together against the Wraith instead of all this in fighting we could have a much better chance of defeating . . . " John doubled over as the cramping in his gut intensified enough to bring tears to his eyes. For a moment all he knew was pain. When it let up enough he could think again, he found himself lying on his side, curled up in a fetal position. His limbs relaxed as the spasm passed.

"Sir, perhaps we should –"

"No, not yet," Penkawr cut her off. "I am still not confident he is telling the truth. We will wait until the pain becomes strong enough to convince him he will die unless he cooperates."

John choked out a chuckle and shook his head. "You don't think . . . my people will miss me . . . before long? That ship we came in is armed . . . and they aren't afraid of using it to get our people back."

Instead of looking concerned, as John had hoped, Penkawr smiled smugly. "I have a plan for that. It seems you have contracted Khahesian fever. It causes much pain and confusion . . . and nearly always ends in death. You must have picked it up somewhere . . . such a shame. Oh, and it's contagious, so your people will need to be kept away for their own safety."

John leaned his head down to his knees as another wave of cramps rolled through him, stealing his breath for what seemed like an eternity. He had a feeling Penkawr was just going to let him die no matter what he said. He couldn't very well let John go back and tell Taran or Elizabeth what had happened. His only hope was that his team somehow figured out what was going on and rescued him.

John was jerked to his feet by Penkawr and the young soldier, pulled across the room and slammed into a chair. He bent over, arms wrapped around his midsection.

"Now, Colonel Sheppard," said Penkawr. "Let us begin again. Why are you here? What do you hope to gain?" John groaned and silently called out to his team for help.

oOo

Penkawr drank water slowly from the flask, carefully watching Colonel Sheppard, doubled over in the chair as he panted in apparent pain. The man was trying his patience, to be sure. Wiping excess moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand, he strode over to the hunched pilot and jabbed him in the shoulder. "Sheppard . . . "

The prisoner rolled off the chair and over to the wall, using the surface to help him to his feet. Sweat beaded on his face and plastered his hair to his head as wild eyes darted around the room. Sheppard finally seemed to focus on Penkawr, but then confused his captors with words that made no sense.

"I let you live the last time we met and I told you then I wanted points for that."

"What?" asked young soldier. "Is he talking to us?"

Penkawr held up his hand for silence, confused about what Sheppard was responding to. He doubted it was them. "Sheppard, who are you talking to?"

"Kolya! You owe me one." Sheppard shook his head in disgust. "Knew I should have killed that bastard."

"Sir?"

"Yes, I know," admitted Penkawr with a heavy sigh. "His mind is muddled and our time grows short. We must move him to the medical facility and prepare for the questions his people will have. Hopefully we can keep them out of the way until his mind clears again." Turning, he watched Sheppard lean against the wall.

"I've got friends," the pilot said, groaning as he sat down and leaned against the wall. "And they'll come for me. We don't leave our people behind, Kolya. You should know that by now."

"Wasn't Kolya one of the Genii military leaders?" asked the young soldier.

Penkawr flinched, disappointed that the young man recognized the name. He'd been hoping the soldier too young to remember the planet's unfortunate dealings with the greedy and corrupt world of Cowan and his goons. He didn't want to foster sympathy for Sheppard that might interfere with what he needed to do. "Fetch Aberthol and Kynan to help us. Do not speak of this to anyone else or you will regret it," Penkawr snapped.

oOo

Elizabeth paused in her comment to Teyla to watch Major Lorne enter the conference room followed quickly by Rodney. She didn't try to hide the grin that erupted at the desperate look on Lorne's face. She could hear Rodney talking about a hundred miles an hour before she got her first glimpse of him. Glancing at Teyla, she saw an equally amused expression on the Athosian's face. "Excuse me while I rescue Major Lorne." Teyla nodded, but her eyes held understanding.

"Rodney, it sounds like you've had an interesting day," Elizabeth said, giving Major Lorne a nod. He shook his head slightly and mouthed _thank you _before heading over to join the rest of his men.

"You have no idea, Elizabeth. For a backwards society . . . oh, no offense . . . they have an amazing energy production and distribution system. If we could just . . . " Rodney paused, looking around the room. "Where's Sheppard?"

"He hasn't made it back yet. Maybe you could hold this discussion until we're all present so you don't have to repeat yourself."

Rodney nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's wise because I'm sure you'll all want to hear my report." He looked anxiously around the room. "Is there food?"

"In a few minutes," Elizabeth responded. "Taran has gone to see what's keeping John and then we're going to eat. That should give us some time to pool our information and prepare for negotiations."

"Well, if they were giving demonstrations, he's probably blowing something up and then you'll never get him back here."

Smiling, Elizabeth nodded, realizing Rodney was probably right. Hopefully his guide would take the lead on making him come back in a timely fashion. The sound of the door opening drew everyone's attention. It wasn't John, as she'd been expecting, but Taran. And he didn't look happy. The way he was wringing his hands and the deep frown on his brow made him look anything but happy.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," he began. "Colonel Sheppard has fallen ill and been taken to our medical facility. If you will come with me, it is but a short distance."

"I was just there," said Carson, his eyes wide.

"I believe this only happened a short time ago," said Taran. "Come and we will find out." He held out one arm, indicating they should follow him out the door and then led the way. Explaining it would be easier to walk the short distance since they were a large group, he led the way down a row of buildings to a sprawling tan facility that was three stories high.

Elizabeth shifted her position in the group until she was walking beside Carson as they entered the medical building. "I want you to take a look at him. These people seem nice enough, but we don't really know enough about them to trust them yet. Plus, I happen to know you're the best doctor in the galaxy."

Carson smiled. "Why thank you. You know I'd insist on it anyway. I'm a bit obsessive about the care of my patients."

"One of the characteristics I admire most about you," Elizabeth said. After a brief conversation with Garym, who had been waiting on them in the lobby, the group was directed down a long hall, up a flight of stairs, and then down a shorter hall. What Elizabeth could see reminded her of hospital scenes in old movies. At the end of the hall was a room with a glass panel in the door. Penkawr stood looking through the glass, turning to meet them as they approached.

"Taran, I apologize for the turn of events. Colonel Sheppard became ill, so of course I brought him immediately here."

"He is in isolation?" asked Taran, frowning as he looked through the glass. The panel was large and John's team crowded around trying to see in the room.

It was a relatively large room with three beds on each side. Only one was occupied. John was dressed in white scrubs, squirming around on a narrow bed, his damp hair plastered to the edges of his face. Twisting, he curled up on his side, facing the crowd, his face scrunched in pain as his arms pressed against his midsection. Two nurses stood to either side, one of them wiping his face with a damp cloth.

"How does he go from perfectly healthy a few hours ago to this?" asked Rodney, his voice nervous and high pitched.

"The doctors think it is Khahesian fever," said Penkawr, looking just a little too pleased for Elizabeth's liking.

"What the heck is that?" asked Rodney. "And who ever heard of someone getting that sick that quickly after being exposed? Haven't you people ever heard about an incubation period?"

Carson sighed. "It is rather unusual for someone to get so sick this soon after exposure. Is this something he could have been exposed to previously?"

"I've never heard of it," said Ronon, his expression dark, his eyes disbelieving.

"I have never heard of this illness either," said Teyla, also looking skeptical.

"It is rare, even on our planet," said Taran, also looking doubtful. "It does, however, come on one very quickly. Many years ago, our physicians came up with an inoculation that prevents one from getting the disease. Khahesian fever is very painful, spreads easily, and has a high death rate, so preventing it became a priority. It was almost completely eradicated within a few years. Now many people do not realize the danger and no longer get the protection. We cannot let this get started again."

Elizabeth watched John through the window, thrashing around in obvious pain. His eyes opened and he seemed to lock on her, realizing she was there. Throwing himself sideways off the bed, he knocked one of the nurses over and scrabbled to the door. The door was locked, so he set about beating on the window. Everyone had stepped back a few paces in shock.

"Not sick . . . he did it . . . not me it's him!" John beat on the window again as the two nurses tried to pull him off. A door at the back of the room opened and two large men dressed in white rushed in to help drag John off the door and back to the bed. He fought like a crazy man, pulling and kicking and even biting, screaming the whole way. "Stop . . . don't trust them . . . make them quit . . . " They slammed him back in the bed, making Elizabeth cringe. Within a few minutes, they had attached restraints to his wrists and ankles.

Penkawr shifted his feet nervously. "The, uh, fever makes him hallucinate. He sees things that are not there. On the way here was shouting at someone named Ford."

Ronon took a step toward Penkawr, his fists clenched tightly as his side. Elizabeth could feel the tension pulling almost every muscle tight as the powder keg next to her got ready to blow. She grasped his arm and squeezed, noting that Teyla had stepped up to do the same on his other side. When Ronon took a keep breath and gave her a tiny nod, she returned her attention to Taran. "I would like Carson to take a look at John and his test results."

Taran licked his lips and then frowned. "I do not know. He is also from offworld and the disease is very contagious. What if he falls ill also?"

"We have special suits that we can wear to keep diseases out and protect the caregiver," Carson said. "I'm afraid I must insist on examining the colonel for myself."

Taran nodded, his features relaxing some. "Truly, you have such suits? We should be interested in making a trade for them if possible . . . when we have Colonel Sheppard properly cared for of course."

"Actually, I'd like to move him back to . . . our home base, get him under the scanner for a proper diagnosis. Maybe we can find a way to treat this Khahesian fever," said Carson.

"We have no treatment for the disease," said Taran with a sigh. "Our doctors merely try to make the patient comfortable . . . try to keep them from hurting themselves during the hallucinations. But I am unsure about moving him."

"I do not think that wise," said Penkawr, his voice strong and firm. "To do so would endanger not only Colonel Sheppard, but also his people and our own who are not protected. There is no treatment or we would have discovered it by now. I insist that we leave him here."

Taran straightened and narrowed his eyes at his military commander. "Since when do you _insist_, Penkawr? I think you forget your place. We will meet the physician in charge of Colonel Sheppard's care and speak to him about the matter. You are dismissed."

Penkawr stepped forward, looking as if he would argue with Taran. When the leader did not flinch or back up, Penkawr faltered and growled under his breath, stalking down the hall. Taran visibly relaxed and turned to Elizabeth. "I don't know what's come over him lately. He's been restless . . . distracted these last few weeks. Perhaps he needs to take some time away. Anyway, that is not of importance to you. We shall find the doctor."

Carson moved to walk beside Taran as they backtracked down the corridor. "I can assure you of our ability to transport the colonel without endangering your people or ours. We have pods capable of moving patients who are contagious so that others are not exposed. I would like to examine the colonel first, of course, to make sure he is strong enough for such a transport, and I would very much like to find out what I can from your medical personnel."

"Of course, Doctor, I'm sure all can be arranged. I am becoming more and more impressed with the medical capabilities of your people. I truly hope this works out well so that our people can become allies. I think we have much to learn."

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at Ronon and Teyla, neither looking very happy. Redirecting her attention to Taran and Carson, she followed them while Major Lorne moved up beside her. Watching the Elerian leader in front of him, he leaned in close to whisper. "Something odd is going on here. I find myself doubting the whole sudden convenient fever thing, especially since it comes with hallucinations to explain away the colonel's warning."

"I tend to agree," Elizabeth whispered back. "I think it's safe to say Ronon and Teyla are skeptical as well. I'm not sure Taran is involved though."

"I'm thinking whether he lets us take the colonel home or not will answer that question. My money is on that Penkawr guy. He acts guilty as sin, plus he was the one with the colonel."

"Agreed. It might not be a bad idea to have someone keep an eye on him, subtly of course."

"Already taken care of," Lorne replied with a grin.

Elizabeth returned the smile. "Sometimes you remind me of Colonel Sheppard."

"Why thank you, Dr. Weir."

oOo

Within an hour, arrangements had been made and a jumper was landing on the front lawn of the hospital, or what served as one in Eleri. Lorne had listened carefully to the chatter in the doctor's office as well as to reports from his men. Penkawr was up to something, he just wasn't sure what.

It turned out Dr. Crowther wasn't quite as sure about the colonel's diagnosis as Penkawr had been. There was no specific test for the disease . . . only symptoms to evaluate. And it turned out that Colonel's Sheppard's symptoms had not exactly fit those of Khahesian fever. While he did have the pain and confusion, he was lacking one of the main signs, namely, the fever. The physician had been baffled by the total lack of an elevated temperature. This discovery had only fed the increasing doubt in Lorne's mind that his commanding officer was not merely suffering from some endemic disease.

"_Major Lorne, the medical team is on their way in with the quarantine unit."_

"Understood. We'll meet them in the lobby." His voice catching the attention of Dr. Weir, Lorne reported to the others in the room. "The medical team is on their way in."

Dr. Crowther, a tall thin man with gray hair and glasses nodded as he picked up the equivalent of a telephone. "This is Dr. Crowther. We're on our way up to get Colonel Sheppard." The man frowned and his mouth dropped open. "What? When?" He listened for a second before dropping the device away from his face. "Two soldiers collected Colonel Sheppard a few minutes ago. He's gone."

Lorne clenched his jaw as his gut tightened. Sometimes he hated it when he was right. He tapped his radio. "Jackson, Sanderson," he said softly. "Two soldiers have the colonel. You guys see anything?"

Jackson's voice came back, equally soft. "Not so far. That Penkawr guy was . . .wait . . . they're here. Two soldiers coming out the back entrance and they're dragging the colonel."

"We're on our way. Don't let them leave." Lorne began moving toward the door as he waved his arm. "Two men out back have the colonel." Ronon almost beat him to the door and he could hear the others right behind him.

"Go down that hall," Taran called, pointing to the hall on his left. "The door at the end leads to the rear of the building."

Deciding to trust the man's instructions, Lorne tore down the hall and crashed through the back door with Ronon still at his side. He didn't notice if they left the doors on their hinges or not. Several yards to his right, Colonel Sheppard was putting up one heck of a fight, pulling and lurching and yelling at his captors to let him go. A third man was getting out of the driver's seat of a jeep-like vehicle. Jackson and Sanderson had the soldiers covered and were commanding them to let the colonel go. The young one looked terrified, as if he'd like nothing better than to comply with the orders, but the older man kept urging him on.

To the sound of Ronon's gun charging up, Lorne decided to take over. "You need to let Colonel Sheppard go right now. We don't want any trouble, but we will shoot if you don't release the colonel immediately."

The young man hesitated and then let go of Sheppard, throwing his arms up in the air. The older soldier began yelling as he jerked Sheppard toward the waiting jeep and pushed him, trying to shove him into the automobile. As soon as he broke contact, he was enveloped by a red light and dropped to the ground, kicking up a small dust storm. The would-be driver took that as a hint and threw his arms up high in the air.

"Do not shoot . . . do not shoot!" the driver shouted.

Lorne and Ronon kept the two soldiers covered while Sanderson and Jackson ran over to Sheppard. As soon as they touched him, the colonel pushed away from them and staggered several feet before dropping to his knees and doubling over as he grabbed his stomach. "Stay 'way . . . can't have 'er . . . my city!" Sheppard swayed and slurred like a drunk, but his men gave him leeway, knowing how dangerous he could be.

Keeping an eye on the two soldiers, Ronon walked over to stand by his CO. "Sheppard . . . Sheppard it's me, Ronon. You need to come with us. We're trying to help you."

"Who?" Sheppard squinted in the sunlight as he looked up at the big man. Beads of sweat glistened like sequins on his face and neck. They stared at each other for several moments before Sheppard licked his dry lips and blinked heavily. "Not . . . not a Wraith worsh'per . . . are you?"

Lorne saw the flinch from his position several yards away, as if Sheppard had kicked the Satedan. But Ronon recovered quickly and shook his head. "No . . . I kill Wraith."

Sheppard nodded. "Good . . . me too." He wiped a hand across his face and then grabbed his chest, leaning over until his face almost touched the ground.

"Sheppard?" Ronon said, kneeling beside the sick man now that the others had taken over covering the soldiers. Lorne was aware of the rest of their little party easing out the door behind him. Sheppard seemed to relax a little and put one hand on the ground to push himself up a little.

"Don't feel . . . s'good," he whispered, his voice barely audible to his second in command. And then he fell over in the dirt. Lorne stepped closer as Ronon grabbed his shoulder.

"We're going to help you, just hang on."

The colonel curled up into a tight ball, his bare feet pushing against the dirt as he tried to pull in tighter. Lorne didn't need to see his face to know he was in a lot of pain. "Please . . . make . . . make it stop."

oOo

"Finally," Rodney said, impatience making him emphasize the word. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Carson would never keep them waiting longer than necessary, but fear and worry were keeping his mind too occupied to consciously acknowledge that right now.

"Sorry, Rodney," said Carson, evidently hearing the complaint. "We're having a bugger of a time figuring this out."

"What can you tell us?" asked Elizabeth, standing between Rodney and Teyla. On the other side of Teyla, Ronon and Lorne stood straight, their bodies pulled tight with tension.

"Well, it's not a bacterial or viral infection, of that we're sure. There's no sign of any form of illness or infection. Our best guess is that Colonel Sheppard's been poisoned."

"I knew it!" said Lorne, pounding his clenched fist into his thigh. "My money's still on that Penkawr guy. He was a little too anxious for us to fall for that Khahesian fever thing."

"I agree," said Ronon, his eyes dark and narrow. "I say we go back and make him talk."

"Now wait a minute," said Elizabeth. "We don't _know_ anything just yet. Carson, do you know what kind of poison?"

The doctor sighed and shook his head. "No, not yet. We know it's a mixture of several chemicals, but we haven't identified them all yet. There are two that the chemists say are similar to toxins in plants on Earth, but the others are totally new to them." Carson sighed and looked at the floor a moment, as if composing himself. That scared Rodney more than anything that had been said so far. When he finally looked up, his expression was troubled. "It's going to take more time than we have to isolate the compounds and figure out an antidote."

"Carson?" Rodney's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Colonel Sheppard's liver and kidney functions are already dropping. This . . . whatever it is, is also acting as a neurotoxin causing extreme pain . . . not unlike the sting of a box jellyfish back on Earth. They are fascinating creatures, even if we know little about their –"

"Carson," interrupted Elizabeth.

The doctor looked confused a moment and then his cheeks flushed slightly as he nodded. And people thought Rodney got distracted. "Right, well, there is also a component that is causing hallucinations and confusion, as we've seen. The problem is that the chemicals are interacting with one another and changing. His symptomology keeps shifting and I'm worried about a cardiotoxic effect and . . . " Carson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Basically, the colonel only has a few hours before his systems begin to shut down."

"He's going to die?" asked Ronon.

"Aye, if we don't find an antidote in the next few hours. And that's assuming there is an antidote. There is no way to manufacture one from scratch in time."

"How long are we talking about?' asked Elizabeth, her features almost as tight as her voice.

"I don't know . . . there are too many variables we aren't sure of. We don't know exactly what we're dealing with and I'd have to make assumptions about his deterioration rate that probably aren't –"

"Just give us a number, Carson," Rodney demanded. Everyone looked at him and he realized how much like Sheppard he sounded. For the first time he had an inkling what was going on in that pilot's pea brain when he barked out an order for a time limit.

Elizabeth recovered first. "Can you just give us your best guess, something to shoot for?"

Carson scrubbed the top of his head, making his hair truly stand on end. "Aye, I can try. At his present rate . . . maybe four to six hours before the damage is irreversible."

"May we see him?" asked Teyla.

With a small nod, Carson led them to John's bed, where the military leader shifted restlessly, groaning as he squirmed around onto his side. Rodney's gut twisted with equal parts worry, guilt, and anger. He was furious at the colonel for letting this happen, even more so once he processed that Sheppard had been the only one without backup. The man had made sure everyone but himself was taken care of . . . so typical and frustrating. But he also felt guilty and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he should have realized Sheppard was going out on his own and voiced his concern. Maybe he should have been aware that something was wrong earlier. He couldn't put his finger on it, he just knew he should have done _something_.

"We have to go back . . . make them give us the antidote," said Ronon.

"I'm inclined to agree," said Lorne.

"An . . . anti . . . dote," gasped Sheppard, causing them all to look his way.

"Did you say antidote?" asked Carson. "Do you know where it is lad?" The doctor had one hand on Sheppard's shoulder, his face hopeful.

"P-p-penkawr," John sputtered as he gripped the metal bed rails and scrunched his face up in pain.

"I knew that slimeball was behind this," muttered Lorne as he turned to face Elizabeth. "Permission to go back and get the antidote?"

"N-no," said John, opening his eyes and pulling himself closer to the edge of the bed. "Genii will . . . no . . . not there . . . wait . . . I don't . . . "

"It's all right, lad, take your time," encouraged Carson.

"How can we trust anything he says?" asked Rodney. "He hasn't been lucid up to now. He might send us on some wild goose chase. You said yourself he was having hallucinations."

Carson sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Aye, he has been. I have no idea, Rodney. He seems more lucid right now . . . but I have no way of knowing if what he's telling us is real or not."

"Real!" John ground out in a loud whisper, panting and trying to pull himself up. "Young soldier . . . and . . . and woman . . . scientist . . . might help if . . . you can find them."

"One of the soldiers trying to colonel nap Sheppard was really young looking," offered Rodney.

"He didn't look very happy about what he was doing either," said Lorne.

"Maybe Taran still has him in custody," said Ronon.

"We're assuming Taran isn't in on the whole thing," said Rodney. Because that would really suck.

"I don't think he is," said Elizabeth. "Let's go see him, ask if we can question the soldier." She glanced at Sheppard when he groaned and drew his legs up to his chest. "We need to do something and we need to do it now."

"You should let us handle it ma'am," said Lorne. "Colonel Sheppard would have me thrown from the balcony if I let anything happen to you and we already know at least some of these people are dangerous."

Elizabeth arched one eyebrow and Rodney was glad he hadn't been the one to verbalize that suggestion, even though he had been thinking the same thing. "I am still the leader of this expedition and I think I've built up a good rapport with Taran. I'll be able to tell if he's lying or not. I _am_ going."

Lorne schooled his expression like the pro that he was and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I suggest we take a jumper and an extra team or two for backup."

"Agreed, but have the extra men in a cloaked jumper behind us. No use getting them trigger happy before we have to."

This time Lorne let a small smile escape. "Just what I was thinking. I'll make the arrangements and meet you in the jumper bay in . . . twenty minutes."

"We're coming too," said Ronon. Rodney nodded and he could see Teyla adding her own nod in his peripheral vision.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said Elizabeth. Turning to lay a hand on Sheppard's arm, she bit her bottom lip for a moment. "Hang in there John. We'll be back soon with the antidote."

Rodney wasn't sure if Sheppard heard her or not. He was rolled in a tight ball of agony again, clutching his midsection and making small whimpering noises that made Rodney want to run from the room. He silently hoped Elizabeth was right. And if she wasn't, then God help the Elerians because the wrath of Ronon . . . no, of Sheppard's team would be upon them.

oOo

For a long time, all John knew was various levels of pain. Muscles cramped and burned, particularly those of his torso. His gut felt like someone was driving a spike through it over and over and over. Then it would feel like the muscles of his back were being stretched to the breaking point. When his chest muscles seized, he couldn't breathe and the panic would make his heart dance a rapid-firing staccato.

He thought he was more lucid than before, at least when the pain didn't freeze up his brain. He was aware of his team going for the antidote . . . at least he thought that was real. Of course the occasional drop-in by Kolya or Todd or the Wraith queen kind of bent things in the opposite direction. But when he had enough breath to yell, threaten, or curse at them, Carson's voice would override the vision and bring him back to the infirmary. That didn't stop him from begging Ford's ghost to return to Atlantis so they could fix him.

John finally grew weary, his body completely exhausted. The cramping had intensified to the point he couldn't draw in a single breath and it refused to let up. Time was up, as far as he could tell. He wished he had the breath to tell Beckett it was okay, that he knew they had tried. All he got was white light that faded back into nothingness.

oOo

"Rodney, if you aren't going to be quiet, then you'll have to leave. I've already told you that Colonel Sheppard will be fine."

"So you say, but since he's not awake and functioning yet, I'll reserve judgment until I see it for myself. How do you know it didn't permanently damage him? What if the stuff fried his brain or he has a nervous breakdown from us not getting here until the last minute or something?"

John licked his dry lips and frowned, annoyed to discover he couldn't get his eyes to open. "John, are you awake?" He tried to turn his head toward Teyla's voice and thought maybe he'd at least shifted in that direction.

"Aye, son, that's it. Keep trying."

The corners of John's mouth turned up slightly with Carson's encouragement. He gave his eyelids another boost and this time they responded, although slowly. Blinking a few times, the fuzzy blob in front of him finally sharpened to reveal a grinning Carson Beckett. "Well done, lad. Welcome back."

John tried to clear his throat of whatever debris seemed to have taken up residence there, but that launched him into a coughing fit. He felt himself rising and that made the whole room shift so that he began falling sideways. Hands straightened him and held him upright until he unclogged his throat and was able to breathe again. Then a straw appeared at his lips and he took it in his mouth, drinking slowly until it was removed. The water took a moment to settle and decide to stay put. With a slow, deep exhale, John leaned back against the pillows of his now upright bed. That explained the flying sensation of earlier.

"Colonel?"

Focusing on Carson, John gave a tiny nod. "Okay, now." He cleared his throat again. "What happened?" he asked, glancing around to discover his whole team was there.

Carson wrapped his hand around John's wrist, taking his pulse even as he studied the monitors John was just now realizing were there. He must have been pretty bad off at some point, because they had him on a heart monitor, pulse ox clipped to his finger, and one of those automated blood pressure cuffs on his arm.

"All right, colonel," Carson said, easing his arm back down to his side, "I think your team can probably give you a brief explanation, but then I want you to rest. This has taken a lot out of you and it's going to take some time for you to get back on your feet."

"I'm okay, though . . . right?" John's body felt like it had been wound up a little too tightly and then hung out to dry. Every muscle in his body ached and every breath felt like it took a major effort, which was probably why nasal cannula now tickled his upper lip.

The smile Carson responded with did more to relieve John than the doctor's words. "Aye, you'll be fine in a few days. The poison has been neutralized and your liver and kidney functions are already returning to normal. The IV will help return the chemical balance and finish flushing the toxins from your body, but it will take a few days for everything to right itself. Just give it some time. The muscle weakness and soreness should improve with time as well. It was rather close there for a while. We weren't sure we'd gotten the antidote in time, hence all the monitors. I'd like to keep them going for a bit longer, just as a precaution."

"You know what a mother hen Carson can be," said Rodney.

"If that means I take good care of my patients, then so be it," said Carson. "I'll be back in a moment to check on you and run your visitors off. Right now I need to inform Elizabeth you've decided to join the land of the conscious again." With a friendly pat to his leg, Carson headed for his office.

"So, did you guys get Penkawr?" asked John.

Rodney rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "Oh, yeah, Ronon took him out with his stunner."

John smiled, wishing he could have seen it. "What happened?"

"We went back with Elizabeth and confronted Taran about you being poisoned. Lorne had some marines in a second jumper as backup, cloaked of course," explained Rodney. "Taran wasn't as surprised as we'd expected him to be. He'd evidently been talking to their doctor . . . Crowhorn or whatever it was."

"Dr. Crowther," said Teyla, looking mildly amused as she traded glances with Ronon.

"Yeah, that guy. Anyway, they had apparently discussed the possibility of poisoning, which led Taran to hold the three soldiers that were trying to abscond with the colonel."

"They didn't want to talk," said Ronon. "I offered to help loosen their tongues."

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Fortunately, Elizabeth had the good sense not to take him up on the offer. Teyla and Elizabeth basically guilted that young soldier into giving up Penkawr."

"Taran did ensure him there would be no repercussions from telling the truth about what happened. I thought the young man seemed relieved to be able to tell us," said Teyla.

John's eyes kept closing of their own volition and the time it took to convince them to open again was growing longer and longer. Voices faded away until a snapping jarred him awake again. His head shot up off the pillow and the monitor revealed his escalating heart rate. "What?"

"Ow!" Rodney pulled away from Ronon while shaking his hand. "You didn't have to hit me you behemoth."

"What in the name of all that's holy is going on in here?" asked Carson, flanked by Elizabeth.

"What?" John repeated, still not completely sure what had just happened.

Teyla sighed and rubbed her forehead for a second. "Ronon was just encouraging Rodney not to keep John awake if he needed to sleep."

"What?" John asked again.

"Stop saying that," said Rodney.

"What?" asked John, and then slapped his hand across his face when he realized what he'd just said. "I mean what happened after the young soldier told you what happened with Penkawr?"

All heads turned to Carson, who wasn't looking happy. Throwing up his arms, he shook his head once. "Fine, you may as well finish explaining or I'll never get him to rest, but hurry it up."

"Allow me," offered Elizabeth. "After Kibddar, that was the young soldier's name, told us what happened, Taran called Penkawr in and confronted him about the poison. He denied it at first, but finally admitted what he had done. He was convinced that we were trying to . . . I'm not sure really . . . He seemed to think we were going to harm or attack Eleri in some way. He was particularly worried about John because he made some kind of room come on?"

John groaned, remembering the door opening and the consoles activating. "Oh, yeah. We passed by some room that was apparently Ancient and stuff . . . well, you know what happens. I tried to explain, but he didn't want to listen."

"The guy was nutso," muttered Rodney.

Elizabeth pursed her lips a moment before continuing. "Well, anyway, he pulled out a vial with the antidote and proceeded to smash it on the ground in front of us, screaming about protecting the people of Eleri. Guards had to drag him out. I have a feeling he'll be spending the rest of his days in their version of an insane asylum."

John rubbed his face since apparently he was missing something. "Wait. I must have dozed off, because I thought you said he smashed the vial of antidote."

"Oh, he did," said Rodney, his voice low. "Just about gave us all a stroke. Ronon was ready to fry the guy, crazy or not."

"Kibddar gave us the name of the scientist who had helped poison you," said Elizabeth. "It didn't take much from Taran to convince her to help us. She had more of the antidote."

"And they got back here with it not a moment too soon," Carson added. "I was . . . getting worried," the doctor said, almost whispering the last few words. "You stopped breathing on us and we had to put you on the vent for a while."

That explained why his throat was so sore. John clutched at the edge of the covers, thinking about how close he had come to dying and for nothing, save the insane paranoia of an old soldier. "I didn't even do anything this time," he said softly.

Elizabeth walked over and put her hand on his, careful not to disturb the pulse oximeter on his finger. "No, you didn't. This was not your fault, or anyone else's. Sometimes individuals do weird things and we can't always see them coming. Penkawr . . . thought he was helping his people."

John realized his face was taunt with frustration and anger and forced himself to relax his features, easing his head back against the pillows. "Someone please promise me that if I ever get that paranoid, you'll tell me to give it a rest."

"I could just stun you," offered Ronon with what could only be described as an evil smile.

"Thanks, but I think you've done that enough already, Chewie," said John with a grimace. He wasn't impressed when everyone laughed. Swallowing, he fought the pull of exhaustion and looked at each of the faces surrounding him. "Thanks, guys . . . for not giving up . . . for getting the antidote." He quickly averted his eyes down to his hands, the strong emotions making him uncomfortable.

"You are welcome, John," said Teyla.

John chanced a glance up and found Teyla and Elizabeth drinking him in with their eyes, while Ronon and Rodney awkwardly looked around the room. He wasn't sure why he found it so comforting to know that the male members of his team were just as awkward and inept during these moments as he was, but it did. The next thing he knew he was grinning at their expressions. When they looked at him with raised eyebrows, he began to laugh. One of these days, his luck would run out and there would be no last minute rescue. But he was even more certain that his team would always try, no matter what the odds. And that was enough.

THE END

_Her request was __a Sheppard-based version of the Nightmares episode of MacGyver - Sheppard captured by __bad guys__ and, in an effort to make him talk/give up information, given a drug that will cause increasing pain and confusion and will be lethal within 24 hours unless the antidote (which the bad guys have) is administered within 12 hours._

_I played around with the 24 hour limit, but I hope it otherwise meets her expectations. Merry Christmas!_


End file.
